


Trapped

by Merick



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merick/pseuds/Merick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you wonder just how Judith ended up in Athelstan's room and in his bed? I did, and so I thought a little back story might be fun to create. Follows cannon in as much as a flight of fancy can. M rating for the adult situation these two end up in. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

She had clutched at my hand with a desperate strength that spoke of fear and excitement all at the same time. I had seen Lagertha at the center of many ceremonies over the years I had spent at Kattegat, though I had to admit I had never seen her doused in blood to that degree before. Judith had certainly never seen that amount of blood, used in that fashion before. Blood was a part of many rituals to the old Gods, to ask for blessings mostly, offering that vital fluid to the divine in exchange for their favor. Christianity had its sacrifices too, though none quite so dramatic, at least to my recollection. I still feared to join in with the chanting (though I knew every word being offered), the Gods still warred for possession of my soul, and here in Wessex, as in Kattegat, it was dangerous to side with the minority; yet just as dangerous to take the other position. For that very reason I kept to myself when possible, said little about religion except to Ragnar and Lagertha and prayed only when alone; I will admit to myself only, that the names of the divine changed in those prayers, and the guilt for that eats at my soul. I will also admit to feeling the same fear and excitement as Judith, and clutched her hand with as much vigor as she did mine as the fields were blessed.   
Our return to the estate of King Ecbert was a somber one. I think it would be safe to say that everyone in the party had been disturbed by the site of the Northmen. Many kept their discomfort silent, though some did not, and they crowded around Ecbert as he rode, descrying the presence of the pagans on their land with their Idol Gods. More than one glance was cast backwards at me, but I kept my practiced neutral expression on my face as they raved at the King about casting out the Northman lest God smite all of Wessex for their sins. It was not difficult to see Ecbert’s shoulders tensing with each statement and I feared that he might explode with more than his voice to put these courtiers in their place. It was good that Lagertha had not accompanied us on this trip, I began to wonder why I had not made up some excuse to avoid it myself; but it was difficult, and quite dangerous to say ‘no’ to the King, at least for a person in my position. So again I rode between two worlds, not entirely trusted by either, except when with Ragnar and Lagertha who continued to offer me their complete protection. Such was the relationship we had built over years.  
King Ecbert offered no such assurances. True, he was quite taken by my presence at his court; in so much as he could pick my mind for information about the Northmen, their traditions and Gods; and, of course, for my services as translator between himself and Lagertha. Thankfully Lagertha had begun to pick up the language of Wessex, her lessons giving me a very valid excuse to escape court and the cell afforded me there. The King was generous with me, and showed many affections towards me just then, providing me with a private scriptorium and shelves of books to be translated. No one amongst the other brothers who attended him would take on the task, fearing the pagan words would poison them in the eyes of God and they would be blamed in those same eyes for leading the King away from Him. I had no such concerns, perhaps I should have. Indeed I was as curious about the ancient stories as Ecbert was; Ragnar and Lagertha had told such wonderful tales of their Gods, I was hungry for more knowledge, for is not all truth rooted in such knowledge, are not all tales of Gods created to teach us right from wrong, to remind us of our moral compass when we lose our steps? That is how I chose to see them at least. King Ecbert wishes to use the knowledge to increase his base of power. I think he wishes to use more than just that ancient knowledge in that way. Though Lagertha is strong I worry for her. But I believe she sees Ecbert for what he is, after all, she has put up with Ragnar and other Northmen who pretend to have power, and yet she bests them all. I fear my heart would be broken if anything were to happen to her, that of Ragnar Lothbrok as well. A myriad of things clouded my thoughts as we passed through the walls of Ecbert’s keep and I surrendered my horse to be stabled, retreating to my cell to find a manner of peace. Something that remained elusive.   
I had stripped to my undershirt and breeches when a soft knock came at my door. I knew who it was, my heart knew who it was, and my body felt a shudder of anticipation beyond the control of my mind to stop it.   
Judith.  
She was the daughter-in-law of the King, married to his son, off campaigning in Mercia, and she had made no secret of how she felt about me. What I did not yet understand were my feelings towards her. In my old life, before Ragnar had taken me as prisoner, I had been a monk, sworn to my God and to chastity. Kattegat had provided temptations to leave both vows behind, but I had not given in to that temptation, the physical one; not until Judith began her campaign against me, and now my heart ached (and not just my heart) when I thought of her. I could do nothing else but open the door to her and latch it behind her as she slipped within.  
“Judith?”  
“Is that what the world of the Northmen is like Athelstan? Is that what you have lived among for so many years now? Blood? Sacrifice? Violent Gods who demand such things of their people?”  
“You think them savages Judith?”  
“Is that not what they have demonstrated?”  
“You have met Lagertha. Is she a savage?”  
“Standing there, coated in blood, could I think anything else of her?”  
“She acts as a symbol for her people. Is not all devotion fraught with some symbolism? Would the Northmen not look at us and think us savages as we devour the body and blood of our God when we take communion?”  
“It is different Athelstan.”  
“Is it really?”  
She sat herself in the single chair in the room and looked at me. I kept a distance between us, though it was hard.  
“Do you still believe in God Athelstan, or have you turned to this Odin?”  
“I love Jesus Christ Judith.” I reiterated that to her. But the truth was I loved Odin as well, as I had assured Lagertha. I knew Lagertha wouldn’t judge me either way, but Judith was still a mystery. “But He preached love for all men, and not that I would dare compare myself to Him, but I endeavor to live by His example.” She looked at me with inquisitive eyes.  
“Tell me about the Northmen Athelstan.”  
“What do you wish to know?”  
“Their women, they fight alongside the men?”  
“They do, and many, like Lagertha, are the equal of the men in skill and strength. They are called shield maidens by some.”  
“King Ecbert has used that term.”  
“He is quite enamored of Lagertha.”  
Judith was quiet for a moment, holding back something she dared not say in front of me just then. She composed herself, smoothing her skirts nervously.  
“And these women, from the Northlands, they may own property, and may divorce their husbands without repercussion?”  
“They may. When I first met Lagertha she was married to Ragnar. But then he,” I hesitated, “they, decided to end their marriage and both moved on to other relationships. Lagertha even became an Earl in her own right.”  
“You speak of her often.”  
“She is a friend.”  
“A lover, perhaps?”  
“No. No.” I felt the need to deny that quite vehemently before her. “She has shown me great kindness, made me part of her family, she has come to trust me, just as Ragnar has.”  
“It must be good to have such friends.”  
“You have friends here at court, and a husband to care for you.”  
“I have much less than you might expect Athelstan.”   
I took a tentative step towards her, then another. Her eyes were so wide, looking at me as if they might peel away my omissions like the skin of an onion. I knelt before her, prepared for that fate.  
“I was promised to my husband when I was five years old. By the grace of God my parents and King Ecbert waited until I was sixteen before I was given to him and the marriage consummated. Before the first year of our marriage was celebrated I had given birth to my first son. Before the third year was passed my second son. Then he had no use for me any longer, he had his heir, and a second besides, and his campaigns and his women. And I was 20 years old. My lands were his, his title mine; for all the good it does me. I am paraded out at feast times and when guests arrive, to take my place at the table. The only man who even speaks to me, besides you, is the King. He likes to tell me stories. He discovered some ruins here, and the bath, he wants so badly to understand the meaning of the pictures on the walls there but dares not bring up the subject with others.”  
“He’s shown them to me, asked me to translate the scrolls for him.”   
She nodded.  
“It was he who first mentioned you to me.”  
“He speaks of you often Judith.”  
We were dancing around something quite unspoken.   
“I am so lonely here Athelstan.”  
“I understand.” I reached out to take her hands in my own. And I was being honest. I remembered the first few years in Kattegat, where the only ones who would speak to me were Ragnar and Lagertha, even Bjorn kept his silence but not his anger from me. I kept my head down, heard the insults hurled at me, I still did from some, like Floki, who called me Priest with such venom in his voice.   
“I do not tell you these things so that you will feel sorry for me Athelstan, so that you will take pity on me and take me to your bed. I only wish for you to understand how much I have enjoyed this time we have had together, and how much joy you have brought to my life.”  
“I have treasured your friendship as well Judith.”  
“Is it only friendship that you feel for me Athelstan?”  
“Oh Judith.” I brought our clutched hands up to my mouth and kissed her fingertips, lingering at the perfumed scent of her skin and the softness against my lips. She was a lady of privilege and I was not worthy of her for so many more reasons than just that station.  
“I have dreamed of making love to you.” She whispered, a repetition of the confession she had made to me behind the lattice wall. Now she could look directly at me.  
She slid off the chair to come to face me, kneeling on the floor in front of me, our hands still twined together.  
“Do you think me a whore?”  
“No Judith, no, I could never think anything so hateful about you.”  
“I have been faithful to my husband, even in my loneliness I have been true to him. But then Ecbert brings me into your presence, encourages me to speak with you, and engineers time with you.”  
“He has done the same with me. Speaking so highly of you as if encouraging me to pursue you.”  
“To what end then Athelstan? He wishes me to be unfaithful to my husband, his son?”  
“Or he wishes to offer you to me, as one does a lure to a fish.”  
“Only so that that fish can be caught and later devoured.”  
“And if you were to be discovered as unfaithful your husband could have you put aside and take another bride, another perhaps with strategic importance.”  
“Then for you and I to consummate a relationship seems wholly unwise.”  
“It does.” I agreed, feeling the ache in my gut as I did so.  
“But yet I cannot convince my heart of such a thing.” Tears were beginning to pool in her eyes, giving them an ethereal sheen that provoked both sympathy and increased desire in my chest, and in other places if I may be honest.  
“He has trapped us both Judith.”  
“In a most beautiful prison.”  
“Yes.”  
“Then I should flee should I not, even though I find myself so unwilling. Athelstan, I cannot leave your presence without at least knowing how it would be to kiss you.”  
“I am your servant.” And I was lost.  
Loosing my grip on her hands I brought my fingers up to rest at both sides of her beautiful neck, cupping her skull, my thumbs resting along her jaw to just tilt her face up to mine. I proceeded very slowly, just brushing my lips against hers, giving her every opportunity to pull away from me, to slap me for my boldness, to return me to my senses, but she did nothing of the sort, only melted into my grasp, pushing her mouth against mine, increasing the pressure and with it my desires. Butterflies converged in my chest making me feel lightheaded, and, drunk on that sensation I pulled her into me, parting her lips with my own, forcing my tongue into her mouth, tangling with hers, taking the moan from her throat into my chest. Breaking apart I felt I could hardly breathe. She seemed to be in the same state, her eyes closed, her lips still parted, breathing audible, with flushed cheeks that begged me to continue. I held myself back.  
“Judith?”  
“Do you want me Athelstan?”  
I don’t know what took over me, the feelings were unfamiliar, yet overpowering. Looking back I understand how very badly things could have gone, and I wonder at the sense of my actions, but I was not thinking straight, so consumed was I by lust. I took her small, soft hand and flattened the palm out against my chest, holding it there for a few heartbeats before I guided it downwards. She offered no resistance as I brought it to rest on the straining fabric between my legs. I was fully hard for her and I wanted her to understand how much I did want her then. The weight of her hand over me, the gentle pressure as she stroked me made me lightheaded and I closed my own eyes to try to center myself against collapse.  
“Yes, I want you.” I whispered. Her shy touch became more extreme. I bit my lower lip and held my breath for a few counts. “Do you want me?”  
“Oh yes.”  
“Then take off your dress, I must have you now.”  
In the candlelight of my cell we stripped ourselves bare of more than just clothing, and ignoring the myriad of dangers we were provoking we crawled under the blankets of my bed, me resting over top of her, offering a reassuring kiss and then a much harder one as she pressed her hips against my most desperate longings. I pushed myself within her and began to work her body over my own, tensions and pressures building throughout my core with every deliberate thrust. She mewled beneath me and clutched at my back, her knees gripping my thighs, holding me within. As her own tensions built she let her head fall back, her lips part, the pulse in her neck enchanting me, drawing my lips to the ivory column, working their way to plunge again into her willing mouth even as my body betrayed me and I cried out for her in silence, still afraid of discovery, my hands holding her firm beneath me.  
We threaded our fingers together, still awash in the fantasy we had constructed and she smiled at me, relief and happiness in her eyes.  
“I love you.” She professed. “Do you love me?”  
“Yes, I love you.”


End file.
